Ducking and stepping onto the rusting iron cage,
Speeding down the mineshaft, it seemed with rage,
Fryston Colliery, my journey underground
Reaching pit-bottom to a cacophony of sound.
 
I could see an old roadway heading out west,
The deputy told me that it was now at long rest,
“Fifty years or more since coal had been mined,
Only fossils and water down there you will find.”
 
I asked if by myself I could go and explore,
He said,” Yes and no obstacles for you to look for,
The way is solid rock, and there is no gas,
But no more than two hours should you let pass.”
 
Entering the passageway, I began slowly to walk;
What conversation would I have, if these walls could talk?
For half-an-hour I walked, with cap-lamp in hand,
This way it was better for me to survey the land.
 
Thinking of boys and men making a meagre existence,
The end of the tunnel loomed dark in the distance,
Reaching the end, I just could not perceive,
Was it my eyes or my mind, which I could not believe?
 
Both shock and amazement greeted me that day,
A massive cave stood before me, and it blew me away!
A lake, black as ebony, with small islands dotted,
To take in the view I first bent then I squatted.
 
My senses were reeling at this beautiful scene,
All I missed was a swan with its feathers to preen,
I manoeuvred my light around, across left and right,
Taking in the splendour of this magnificent sight.
 
Stalactites from the ceiling, stalagmites on the ground,
Ancient pillars from Pompeii were strewn all around,
Some dangling, hanging as a witch’s icy fingertips,
Others spreading out long, like a spindly broomstick.
 
From the roof plip-plopping of water made music so light,
Colours of white, cream, red and brown found my light;
A watercolour picture was painted before me;
And no-one else could be bothered to call here to see.
 
Turning to leave this ethereal place to behold,
I shivered from wonderment, not from the cold.
The deputy asked me if any fossils I’d found;
I said, “No, just and old disused tunnel, here underground.”